My mother had her first stroke when she was 82. After that, she kept having what the doctor called mini strokes.
After the first stroke, she knew she had lost a lot of her memory. She couldn’t remember where anything was in the kitchen and would get frustrated opening door after door, drawer after drawer, searching. As time went on, she couldn’t even understand her own limitations.
This is my mom’s high school graduation picture.
Three years later, she and my dad moved to an assisted living facility.
Like all of us, Mom wanted to feel in control of her life. I visited her as much as I could, even though I lived 500 miles away.
On one visit, the nurse came in with my mom’s medication. Mom refused, saying, “Take them away. I don’t want them.”
The nurse’s tired look told me that this wasn’t new.
I looked at my mom and said, “Mom, you could live 10 more years if you take your meds and follow your doctor’s instructions.”
She slumped down in her chair, physically and mentally. She looked defeated. Then, she finally spoke and said, “I hope not, Kathy.”
“I hope not?” I was shocked. How could she say that?
At the time, I was healthy, still young, and had so much to live for. I wanted to live. So, hearing my mom say that was hard to understand.
Now, I get it. Mom was in a nursing home, stuck in a wheelchair, with no idea what day, month, or year it was. She wasn’t living the way she wanted, and I was telling her she could live 10 more years in that condition.
Now, I understand why she said what she did. I wouldn’t want to live like that either. I realize now, like Mom, I wouldn’t want to outlive my life either.